Star Trek Explorer: The Birth of the Federation
by A J Martin
Summary: 2179-The Explorer is the first vessel of her kind, the first truly joint venture between the members of the 18 y.o Federation. When a terrorist cell attempts to sabotage the Explorer's first mission, the Federation risks fracturing before its truly begun
1. Prologue

"Your transmission is being disrupted," the Klingon growled at the blurred distortion of a figure on screen.

"It was the only way of avoiding your peoples subspace monitoring network," the figure replied, the blocks of static disguising his features. "I don't _think_ your government would be too _happy_ if they learned of our partnership, do you? Even if they _are_ after the same goal as we are."

"I would concern yourself _less_ about being caught and _more_ about _achieving_ that goal," the Klingon snarled, baring his sharpened, yellowed teeth.

"I have concerned myself with nothing else for the last three years!" the figure growled back.

"And each time your plans have ended in _failure_! The _bomb_ in the warp core, the power overload in the energy conduits- all _disastrously_ failed from _stopping_ the vessels construction!"

"If those plans failed, they failed because of _your_ incompetence to carry them out," the figure said, reasserting their cool calm. "I am the ideas man, and you are the…the muscle behind our project. It was your job in each case to see the missions through."

"You _question_ my _abilities?!_" The Klingon roared, smashing a fist into the Communications Control Panel, the buttons beneath his clenched hand buzzing and beeping in response.

"Oh please, we do not have time for any of your Klingon honour garbage. The longer we sit here trading barbs with each other, the bigger the chance this transmission will be triangulated. We are here to arrange our next point of contact, so I can give you the device."

"It is _completed?_" the Klingon said with surprise.

"And tested. It works perfectly. And it's simple to set up. Even _you_ should be able to work it properly."

The Klingon nodded, ignoring the insult, and stroked the thin moustaches stretching down from his top lip. "Where do we meet? And when? We do not have much time left. The Vessel is scheduled to launch in less than two weeks."

The figure nodded, as the screen flickered. His voice tinged with a metallic interference when he spoke. "I suggest Earth itself. Where better than the site of the launch?"

The Klingon grunted. "It will _not_ be easy to reach Earth at the moment. The planet is under heavy surveillance after the last time. All ships are being screened rigorously."

"But you had to have a way to reach there to _plant_ the device anyway! Why are you only telling me this now?!"

"I was… _hoping_ you would be able to transport me there, when the time came." He tried to smile with obvious strained effort. "Your stealth device can reach the planet without detection."

The figure on screen shook his head and sighed. "Klingons. Do you _never_ plan ahead?"

"I thought _you_ were the brains behind this operation?"

"Just... just _find_ a way to reach Earth!" the figure spat. "I will _not_ risk entering Klingon space again to ferry you about! Your sensors are far more advanced than those around the Federation! I will meet you in one week, at the co-ordinates I am sending now in the Sol System. Find a way to be there!"

The transmission ended, and the Klingon spun from the console and spat on the ground. "Filthy _P'tach!_ When all this is over I will take great pleasure in sliding my _Mekleth_ into his slimy gullet!"

"_Patience!_" Another Klingon emerged from the shadows; a woman, clad in dark furs and animal pelts. A necklace of teeth stretched down into her ample bosom. She stroked his face, his smooth forehead, devoid of his ancestors cranial ridges. "Right now we _need_ him, and his expertise. We could never succeed in creating such a device without his knowledge."

"But it is not _right!_ Siding with our_ mortal enemy!_"

"The High Council put to us the task of stopping this threat, by _any means necessary!_"

"I do not think they had this alliance in mind when they did!"

"Which is _why_ we needed to keep the details secret from them. What matters is that their will is done. It stands in both our Empire's interests to see that the Federation fails in this mission! With that ship destroyed Starfleet will lose their work of ten years! _Think of it!_ We can put a stop to this alliance of planets before it has a chance to grow like the weed it is any further! The Humans, the Vulcans, the Andorians, even the Tellarites! All will cease to be a threat to us after this!"

The male nodded his head thoughtfully. "Yes, I know. If this is a failure, their fragile efforts at so- called _peace_ throughout the galaxy will _crumble_."

"And the Klingon Empire will sweep throughout the Galaxy! An unstoppable wave devouring its enemies one by one! With us at the top!"

They exploded into riotous laughter, patting each other on the back, before kissing each other violently, the male cutting into the female's neck with dirt- encrusted nails. She pulled him back forcefully.

"None of that now! We have a lot to do. We need a way to reach Earth, seeing as our friend is _scared_ of succumbing the Klingon Imperial Guard!"

"I... may know a way," the male said with a toothy grin on his face. "I know of an Orion trader that has use of a working Suliban stealth ship."

"I thought _they_ were_ all_ destroyed?"

"He is a _very_ resourceful man. He might be persuaded to take us to the Sol system."

"How much will it cost us?" the female spat.

"He has little interest in wealth anymore. But it might be that you have certain…assets he would be interested in."

The female raised her eyebrows. "Husband, you surprise me! You would loan your wife out to one of those green- blooded _demons?_"

"For this mission to succeed, I would _give_ you over to him as his own wife if he asked!"

The female smirked, baring her teeth and rotting, blackened gums. "Ah, you could _try!_"


	2. Chapter 1

**E X P L O R E R**

**-**THE BIRTH OF THE FEDERATION-

The sun cast itself across the earth; a line of glorious light spreading across a marble surface. Clouds glowed and the seas glistened, and above, the skeletal form of a construction dock hung in orbit. In its metal grip, the Starship _Explorer_ stood in all its glory, a shining white mass against a backdrop of black. Sunlight glinted off the large, round, golden deflector dish with its protruding antenna, and across the grey-white combined saucer and hull that housed it. Worker ships buzzed around its body, carrying supplies and last minute additions to its structure, and a great mechanical arm hovered overhead, fixing into place a part of a Nacelle casing, covering the bare warp coil underneath. Shimmering Bussard Collectors glowed orange- red, the spinning turbines inside casting shadowy patterns across the aft hull and nacelle pylons. Tiny windows across the ships bulk glowed with a yellowy light, and atop the bridge a bulbous dome covering the main bridge shone with a soft white glow, and two tiny red and green lights either side of it blinked in turn.

At a small window off to the right of the bridge module, a figure stood silhouetted against the backdrop, watching the world go by- _literally_. His hands were stuck in his black trouser pockets, and by his side, on a small grey table, stood a steaming mug and a sweating flask. He freed a hand from a pocket and picked up the drink, and sipped at it tentatively, blowing against the hot tea inside.

The small door behind him opened with a swish, and another figure walked in, a woman, in a red tunic that swept off diagonally at its bottom to reveal black trousers underneath. She clutched to a black lacquered Interface.

"Captain? Engineering reports for you, sir."

"Set them on the desk Ensign Jelano, thank you," Captain Corega muttered, waving his free hand to the young engineer in response.

"Very good sir."

"No matter how many times I see this view, it never once grows old," he said, turning now to regard the woman. The Ensign tucked her arms behind her back, and nodded with a smile.

"No place like home, sir."

Corega set his mug down again, and motioned to the flask. "Would you like a tea, Ensign? From what I hear its thirsty work in engineering at the moment."

"Oh. That's very kind of you, sir, but I really should get back to work. There's still a lot to do before launch, and there's only three days to do it in!" With a nod, and the Captain's permission, she turned on her heels and left the room swiftly.

The Captain took his mug, and sat behind his curved grey desk, picking up the report and idly browsing its contents. Moment later, the door parted again, and another crewman entered, again clutching at an interface. He was an Andorian, and his antennae twitched back and forth as he nodded to Corega.

"First Alyssa – Ensign Jelano, and now you, lieutenant? Are you all trying to bury me in paperwork?" he said with a grin. The Andorian twitched, clearly nervous, and fumbled with the interface.

"Sir? Ah I see- a joke! Sorry sir, I'm still a little unfamiliar with human humour. Erm... these are latest updates on the weapons systems, sir."

"How are we getting on?" The Captain set the engineering reports down and picked up the new ones, flicking through them as the Andorian spoke.

"The discriminator problem with the Phase disruptors has been corrected now. It err… seems that someone in engineering programmed the systems incorrectly."

"Remind me to have them all flogged," the Captain replied, before looking up from the interface and adding "that's another joke, Jarra."

"Ah! Very… very good sir!"

The Captain motioned once again to the flask sitting on the table. "Tea, Jarra?"

"I should probably return to my station, sir," Jarra stuttered.

"If I were paranoid I'd say my crew were avoiding me!" Corega exclaimed. Jyrra's antenna flattened, and the Captain, catching the shifty look in his eyes, raised an eyebrow. "_Are_ they?"

"It's just…I think some people…when you threw the interface across the bridge the other day…"

"Ah." The Captain nodded. That had been a bad day, to say the least. It started with the gravity plating fluctuating at random, so that one minute you were crawling across the floor and the next bumping your head on the ceiling, and had gotten progressively worse when the drinks dispensers in the Canteen dispensed bulkhead sealant. It ended with his frustration being taken out on one unfortunate Ensign, and a now rather battered interface module. "Well I assure you, Jarra, I won't be throwing _these_ at you." He waved the reports in the air. "Sit, please."

Jarra shuffled to the chair opposite his Captain, and sat, fumbling with his hands. The Captain rose to get the flask and another cup from a cabinet, and poured some of the steaming liquid out for the Lieutenant. "How are you doing?" Corega asked him, draining his own cup, before pouring out another.

"As I said, the Phase disruptors are-"

"No, that's not what I meant. I mean, how are _you?_ Personally. Are you settling in well?"

"Well, I am…I'm beginning to settle, sir," Jarra said, starting to relax a little. The tension had gone from his shoulders, anyway, and his antennae were rising slowly. "At first I found it difficult, I will admit. It's a lot different than the _Salter_ class ship I served on. Not just the ship, I mean, but the people, as well."

"How so?" the Captain asked.

"Oh do not misunderstand me, sir, everyone here has been nice! It's just you get used to working with one group of people, and a way of doing things."

The Captain nodded. "I understand. When I moved from the _Columbia_ as an ensign, to the _Michigan_, I thought I would never settle. The Captain seemed a harsh taskmaster, brutal in his role. After a while though, I got used to it. You adapt to your new circumstances. Serving under a different Captain and a different system can be daunting at first. Especially when one of your first experiences is of your commanding officer hurling an interface across the bridge!" Jarra laughed nervously, and his antennae twisted about.

"I assure you, Lieutenant, that will _not_ be a regular occurrence. But there's a lot riding on this mission, and there is going to be a lot of pressure put on _all_ of us. I asked for you because I think you performed well above your years during your time on the _Blackwell_. Your former Captain told me you have the potential to be the best Tactical officer he's ever seen. And you've served well during the last month of shakedown. But things are going to get tense at times. I need to know you can handle it. You might just encounter worse than a Captain having a bad day!"

Jarra nodded, licking his lips. "Captain. I…I know I might seem quite nervous…"

"Just a little," Corega added with a smile.

"Right, yes. But I assure you, when it comes to my job, and the safety of this ship, you won't find anyone more dedicated. I…I just don't handle socialising well. I find it difficult… getting used to new people."

Corega nodded, taking it in, and took a sip of tea. Then he nodded. "Alright. I'll give you a chance."

Jarra smiled, and bowed his head. "I won't let you down sir! You can count on me!"

The door swished open again, and another crewman walked in, this time clutching a pile of interfaces.

"It's going to be a long day!" Corega sighed.


	3. Chapter 2

Rain pounded the walls of the Café. It streaked down the windows in torrents, blurred the view outside of early evening at Lombard Street in San Francisco. It had been a truly ghastly weekend. The paths seemed now to be made of water; wide fast- flowing streams that zigzagged around streets and roads. The entire city was fast becoming a replica of Venice with its Canals and waterways. Stephanie wouldn't have minded a canal boat right about now; it would at least stop her shoes from becoming drenched. As she gazed out at the downpour from within the deserted _Café Maurice_, she let out an exasperated sigh. Another _exciting_ Saturday. She sat and poked a half eaten biscuit as Mr. Jonas, the owner, came out from the back.

"Why don't you go home, Stephanie? No-one is going to come out in this now."

"Are you sure?" she asked, as he put a hand on her shoulder.

"I'm certain. I may turn in early myself!"

Thanking him, and telling him she would be in tomorrow, Stephanie began the process of prepping herself for the rain. Her heavy coat was buttoned to her neck, and her hood was pulled tightly over her head. Her umbrella had long since succumbed to the elements, and she kept forgetting to bring a new one, so, pulling the Café door shut behind her, she folded her arms and stepped out from the awning into the torrent. Water drenched her feet as she sloshed down the road. It was quite a walk as the wind buffeted her about, as she made her way to 25th Avenue, where she called home. She should have taken a short range transport, she knew, but there almost seemed little point. What would she be rushing home _for?_ Aside from getting soaked to the skin, she enjoyed the walk. It was better than just sitting at home for another night, watching the downpour or watching the news reports. The streets were peaceful at least. There was nothing but her and the patter of raindrops.

As she made her way along California Street, almost home, she caught sight of a figure ahead. He had clearly not noticed her in the rain, but they were a figure that stood out, a sort of person that was noticeable even when it tried not to be. There was something about him (it was defiinitely a man), something…shifty. It made her uneasy.

Why she did what she did next defied _all_ rationality. Instead of carrying on home, back to the safety of her own four walls, a hot drink and a relaxing book, she turned to follow the character as he paced through the rain, unflinching, towards Mountain Lake Park.

The sound of the rain pounding the trees of the Park was almost deafening. The figure strutted down steps and past children's recreations, carried on as Stephanie followed a way behind. She kept herself hidden when she could, behind trees and bushes. Once he looked around, and she had barely managed to hide herself in time, sliding down into the mud and catching herself before she cried out in pain at planting her hand into a sharp stone. He had glanced about for a moment, before carrying on with the same air of confidence. She pulled herself to her feet and carried on.

After five minutes of wandering in the Park, the man pulled out some kind of device from his pocket, and began pushing buttons. He held it up as if trying to catch a signal, and then growling something she could not make out and tucking the instrument back into his pocket, turned to his left and carried onward. He pushed his way through some bushes to an area sheltered by trees and layered with bark shards. Another man was waiting there. Stephanie crouched down behind a bush, and strained against the rain to see and listen.

"…took you so long?" one of them asked.

"I could not remember the co-ordinates. I trie… scan for you, bu … scanner was blocked."

"I jammed all signals for a radui…one mile."

Stephanie tried to make out the face of the other figure. He was cloaked in shadows, and all she could really make out was his short straight hair, glinting in the sparse moonlight.

"Do you have it?" the one she followed asked aggressively.

"Why would I _not_ have it? That was the whole point of meeting!"

"Give it to me!" the first growled, and the second brought a metal case out from behind him. "You _could_ have picked a better place to meet. I am _soaking_ wet."

"I thought Klingons didn't care about such things?" the other said with an air of sarcasm.

Stephanie gasped. _Klingons!_ She had heard about them through the news broadcasts. They didn't seem the friendliest of species, to say the _least_. This one certainly didn't.

"I have included a data-slip with instructions on its use," the second continued. "_Read it_ before you try and use it!"

"I am not a _fool!_" the first spat. He looked ready to _murder_ his companion.

"This time all has to go according to plan. Once the Explorer is launched we will have lost our best opportunity to lay the federation to rest!"

"The ship will not launch! I will take care of it!"

"Just make sure you do. The slip contains further details of the final steps of the plan. Follow them to the letter, or you _will_ get caught."

The Klingon nodded, and seizing the case, began to stalk away. Stephanie readied herself to move in case he came in her direction. "How is that _lovely_ wife of yours, by the way?" the shadowed man called after him.

"… Indisposed," he snarled. With that, the Klingon stalked off. He didn't spot her. The second shook his head, muttering, and took out something from a pocket. There was a beep, and then the man shimmered, and was gone. _Transported._

Stephanie sat huddled behind the bush for a while. Then she rose, and with purpose marched off.

"Can I help you?" the startled officer at the reception hall of Starfleet Headquarters asked as a soaked Stephanie stood in front of her, dripping water onto the marble floor.

"I would like…I _need_ to speak to someone about the Starship _Explorer_. It's urgent!"


	4. Chapter 3

Engineering hummed with activity. The power of the warp core reverberated off the walls and rattled the protective plate surrounding the core chamber. Men and women worked everywhere there was free space, tuning consoles and clutching interfaces. The day before launch was a busy time, and nothing ever went according to plan.

"The most advanced technology not only on Earth but in the entire Federation, and still this computer goes wrong!" ensign Alyssa Jelano exclaimed as she lay on her back examining an open panel. She tweaked something, which beeped happily, and then she turned back to a man by her side. "Try it now James."

The young man tapped at the Core Control interface. "Bingo. We have full control again."

"Thank _God_ for that!" a voice came from behind them. "I was beginning to think that was never going to work properly. Well done, you two." Commander Joe Mitchell, chief of engineering operations; a sarcastic man with a face to match that made him look like he was permanently grinning: the Cheshire cat of Starfleet. "Now you've done that I've got _another_ job for you two! Aren't you lucky?"

"Who needs a rabbits foot when we have you, sir?" joked Alyssa as she was helped to her feet by James Marcus- only a Crewman in rank, but with enough experience to be promoted to Lieutenant if anyone would recommend him. "What's the job?"

"It's the drinks dispenser again."

"Oh not again! What is it this time?" Alyssa groaned.

"Strawberry Milkshake."

"I'm sorry?" asked James.

"Whatever anyone asks for, they get strawberry milkshake. Could be a problem with the voice recognition software. I would take a look myself, but I've been called to the port nacelle _again!_"

"The Plasma stream is still fluctuating?" Alyssa asked.

"_Oh_ yes."

"And we're still launching tomorrow?"

"No, actually. At least, possibly not, from what I've just heard."

"_What?_" Alyssa and James both exclaimed together. Commander Mitchell leaned in closer, and lowered his voice.

"It hasn't been officially announced yet. There's some talk of sabotage again, and it's got Starfleet Command spooked. The Captain's been arguing his case to go ahead and launch over the Comm. He thinks we're safe, but it's Command who pulls the strings!"

"Someone should hide the Interface Pads," Alyssa added.

"Well if he's going to throw one, he'd be throwing it at Command in person! He's gone down an hour ago to San Francisco, to try and sort things out, and convince them to change their minds."

"Starfleet must have good reason to postpone the launch," said James. "After all this time they wouldn't just stop it unless there was a _big_ chance of sabotage."

"Maybe, but I'm with the Captain on this one. This ship's been locked down tight since the last time. There's no way anyone could get on board, much less plant a bomb!"

Alyssa sighed and picked up her toolkit. "While I find all this gossip and conjecture _fascinating_, we'll just have to wait and see, won't we? I'm sure there'll be an official statement soon, whatever. Come on James, we've got more pressing matters. We have to stop a milkshake epidemic."

--

"_Klingons?!_" Captain Corega exclaimed. "That's _crazy!_ The Klingon Council might not _like_ the federation, but they've never openly attacked a member in ten years of its existence!"

"That doesn't mean they don't _want_ to, or that they wouldn't if given the opportunity," Admiral Parsons said as he watched from behind his desk as Captain Corega stormed back and forth. "Now, this young lady has given us information about a possible sabotage plot. Very credible evidence. We're not just going to ignore it!"

"I'm not saying we _should_ ignore it, Admiral, but with all due _respect_, my crew can handle any onboard threats! There's a strict search and scan of the entire ship scheduled before we leave dock, if we found anything out of the ordinary…"

"It's too dangerous, Marcus."

The Captain paused and scratched at his stubble; he hadn't had a chance to shave yet today. He took a breath, and started again. "When the NX-01 was launched twenty eight years ago, everyone said it would be too dangerous. Captain Archer faced enemies on every side, but it was worth the risk! If Starfleet hadn't taken a chance then the chances are we would still be a secluded little planet in a corner of the galaxy, still conducting warp tests under the watchful eyes of the Vulcan High Command!"

"I get your point Captain, but the circumstances are different. Earth _needed_ to make a point then, to make its mark on the Galaxy and break free of an oppressive alien authority. We have _time_ now, time to perfect things, make sure nothing goes wrong. This mission is important. This ship is ten _years_ in the making, and I don't want to see it blown to pieces. It would _cripple_ the Federation."

"That's why we _need_ to launch tomorrow! We _still_ need to make a mark Admiral! The Klingons, the Orions, they're all watching us to see if we make a mistake! They _want_ the Federation to fail. We're just as vulnerable now as we were back then, maybe even _more_ so. It's not just us that's at risk now. There's billions of different people, different races, on different worlds. They've invested in this project, in our alliance."

The Admiral sat with steepled fingers, considering. "Oh, I sympathise, Marcus," he sighed, "I really do. I want the _Explorer_ to launch as much as you."

"Nobody wants this as much as I do, with all due respect."

"Perhaps you should talk to this woman yourself. It's quite a chilling story. They were _here_, whoever they were, in San Francisco, right under our _noses_."

Corega bit his bottom lip, and then after a pause, nodded. "Where is she?"

"She's been put in guest quarters in the Quad. Room 5, section C12."

--

The Quad was quiet at this time of the day. In the late afternoon most officers were on duty, and those not were usually waiting for their night shifts, sleeping after their lunch. The rain from the previous days still left damp patches on the concrete walkway on the route to Section C12, and drenched plants hung limp from their pots along the route.

Captain Corega marched swiftly through the long corridors and pathways, until he reached section C12.

"Yes, come in," a voice said as he knocked on the door of room 5. The young woman – Stephanie Andrews- was sitting on the small bed, perched at its edge. She turned, her hands in her lap, to regard him. She nodded, and managed a weak smile.

"Miss Andrews?" he asked. "I'm Captain Corega, the commander of the _Explorer_."

"Yes, I recognise you from the news reports," the young woman said blandly.

"You're a follower of our mission?" Corega questioned, moving to face her.

"Most people are, I believe," she muttered. "But yes, I've been following the development of the _Explorer_ since the project was first commissioned. Have a seat, Captain, please," she added, beckoning to a free chair by the window.

"I'm guessing you know why I'm here," Corega said. "Starfleet Command has placed our launch on hold tomorrow because of what you witnessed today. They suggested I talk with you about the incident, hear about it for myself. If you are willing?"

She nodded, and began to retell her experience, right down to the smallest detail. The Captain took everything in, nodding every now and again through the tale. When she had finished, Corega leaned back in the chair, and placed his fingers together. He continued nodding, working out the facts in his head.

"I always suspected the Klingons of the previous sabotages." He shook his head. "They had been aggressive to us ever since we first encountered them. But when I first raised my views on those attacks, Command told me the Federation Council had secured a balance between the Federation and the Klingon Empire. The new High Council had declared non aggression with the Federation." He shook his head. "I came to believe it myself. And ten years of relative peace convinced me further. But now… I should have trusted my instincts."

"It doesn't necessarily mean the saboteurs are working on behalf of their Empire," Stephanie chimed in, and Corega looked at her analytically. Then he nodded.

"From what I know of the Klingons from the reports I've read, the rules of law of the Empire set are _rarely_ adhered to anyway." He sighed. "And you _definitely_ can't remember anything about the other figure? There was nothing to distinguish him?"

Stephanie shook her head. "No not really. He was deep in the shadows. All I could make out was that he had dark hair, sort of… well sort of _glossy._"

"Doesn't sound much like a Klingon to me. Unless it was _greasy. _Now _that_ I could believe about a Klingon. The ones I've seen never look like they make _washing_ a priority."

Stephanie chuckled, and for the first time she properly looked Corega in the eye. "You're a lot different than you come across in your broadcast interviews."

"How so?" Corega asked with a wry grin.

"Not quite so…pompous."

"_Pompous?_" he exclaimed.

"Sorry. Oh, there's one more thing," she continued, returning to their previous subject. "The two of them didn't seem to get on. By their tones I'd say they were more likely to be enemies than friends. The one in the shadows was more restrained in his speech."

Silence followed. Then Stephanie spoke again. "I hope they don't postpone your launch too much, Captain. It would be a shame, after all this time."

"Yes it would," Corega said with a creased brow. "More than a shame. A _disaster,_ more like. But if we can catch the people you observed, we can begin to get things back on track. Starfleet won't be happy with anything else."

"You would rather go ahead and run the risk of your ship being destroyed?" she asked. "It's a big risk."

"There are always risks. In my opinion, it's an acceptable risk. The Explorer is heavily guarded, every incoming person is checked and recorded, the Transporter systems are monitored at both ends. Not to mention that Klingons aren't exactly _subtle_, to say the least. They don't blend in with a crowd easily. How _could_ they make it on board, I ask you?"

"There's always a chance though. It's better to be safe than sorry."

"We will be sorry if we don't launch tomorrow. We'll have a lot more Klingons to worry about then."

Stephanie frowned. "What do you mean?"

"In the last ten years the Klingon Empire has expanded at an average rate of 21 light years every year. Sooner or later, they are going to come into our backyard, peace treaty or not, and we _won't_ be ready. The _Explorer_ is a _signal_ to the Klingons, a sign we aren't to be trifled with as much as it is a symbol of our exploration. It says that we're here to _stay, _and that this alliance is _working_."

"But the ship will be launched sooner or later. It would only be a short delay surely?"

"It's taken ten years to reach this stage." He sighed. "I can't tell you any more."

"Why? Who would I tell?"

"The Press. Newscasters. You could sell the information to our enemies! No offence, but I've known you for all of thirty minutes."

"I just risked my life spying on two of _our_ enemies! I came straight here and reported what I saw. Do you _really_ think I would do any of those things?"

"I don't even know you!" Corega exclaimed. "For all I know, you could be a set-up, part of the saboteurs plan. I've _already_ said too much as it is."

Stephanie sighed. "Ever since I could talk, all I've ever dreamed about is being up there, in the stars." Her voice was passionate, angry, and determined. "I spent my entire childhood and teenage life preparing to apply for Starfleet, wishing the day would come just a little faster when I could wear one of those uniforms and explore the stars. When the Federation was formed I _cried._ Actually, physically _wept_, because I could see the good that people in Starfleet were doing, the good that someday _I_ would be doing. I'm _proud_ to be a part of the Federation, to be human. Believe me, Captain, I wouldn't tell a soul anything that could be used against Starfleet or Earth."

There was something in her face, her voice: an honesty, that made Corega continue. "Alright. There are… _some_ in the Federation who still aren't convinced Starfleet should be the institution of choice for the Federation's exploratory and military wing. This kind of security issue, coupled with any more delays could set the politicians talking again. 'Starfleet is too impractical, inefficient;'" he mimicked. "'It's too _human_ an institution, segregated, too archaic.'"

"That's all nonsense!"

"Yes, it is, but nevertheless there could be enough sway on the Federation Council to disband Starfleet and start from scratch. Do you have any idea how long that would take? The _Explorer_ would sit in Mothballs and the Federation would close itself off for maintenance, and all the while the Klingons would grow in strength, become more confident. We'd be an easy target."

"I had no idea," Stephanie said, clearly shocked.

"You see why we need to launch now?" he asked. She nodded.

"A Klingon can't be that hard to find in San Francisco."

"Let's hope," Corega said. "Otherwise my ship isn't going anywhere." He stood with an effort, and made for the door. "I won't trouble you any more Miss Andrews. Thank you for answering my questions. And for listening. It's good to know that _someone_ sees my point of view."

"That's all right," she said, smiling. "I really _do_ hope they catch the saboteurs, Captain. I promise you, I won't tell anyone what you've told me today."

Corega nodded. "It was nice to meet you, Stephanie. You know, you should join the Academy. You're more than old enough now, you know. I'm surprised you haven't already, for someone with such a passion for exploration."

Her face fell instantly, and she stared at her feet. "I did."

He took a step back towards her. "And?"

"I was... dismissed."

"What? _Why?_"

She shrugged. "I wasn't Starfleet material I suppose."

"But, you have such a passion."

"Sometimes it takes more than passion. You have to have ability, and Starfleet decided a career with them wasn't for me."

"I see," he said, not entirely convinced.

"If there's nothing else Captain, I'm very tired, I could do with some rest before your friends at Starfleet security return with more questions I can't answer."

Corega smiled thinly, and nodded. "Of course. Take care, Miss Anderson." He turned and left, the doors swishing behind him.


	5. Chapter 4

Captain Corega rematerialised on the transport pad of the _Explorer_, molecules swirling about like bubbles in the transporter beam before settling into place. Transporter technology had advanced a lot in the last few years, but you still couldn't shake off that tingling feeling as your consciousness reasserted itself moments before all the pieces of the human jigsaw settled into place. He shrugged his shoulders, and stepped off the platform. His First Officer, Commander Syraan was waiting. He nodded his head gracefully.

"Captain."

"Commander, what are you doing here?" Corega asked. "Shouldn't you be on the bridge?"

"It was necessary to meet with you as soon as you arrived back on board. Sir, we are experiencing problems," he said in his calm unwavering manner.

Corega eyed him warily. "What is it _now?_" he sighed. The pale complexion and dark blonde hair of his XO always seemed in complete contrast to all Vulcans he had ever met before, and he could not help but stare sometimes. He was a very attractive man, by any species standards, but with all the warmth of an icebox. Dressed in his specially tailored Vulcan robes, made as a permitted alternative to the newly designed standard uniforms, he cast a regal and impressive figure.

"It..." the Commander seemed uncomfortable, or at least that would have been how he appeared if he was capable of displaying such an emotion. "It is the onboard sanitary facilities. All lavatories and sewage recycling systems have malfunctioned."

Corega felt like laughing. Such matters were deeply private to Vulcans, and not broched easily. He covered his mouth and pretended to cough, and then regained his composure. "The toilets are out of order?"

Syrran nodded. "Indeed. It is making the crew – the human crew – anxious."

"Well, I can see how that would be a problem." _But with everything that's happened today, not the worst of our problems,_ he thought. "Is Mitchell on it?" he asked.

"Commander Mitchell is attending to the matter, however, he maintains it will be several hours before use of the lavatories is restored, and many of the crew are... require the use of the facilities."

Corega placed a hand on his XO's shoulder. "You know what Commander? I'm going to leave this matter in your _capable_ hands."

"Captain?" Syraal said, trying to hide his surprise under a thick veil of Vulcan emotionlessness. He failed.

"Organise trips to the drydock facility. Hell, use a _bucket_ if necessary. I'm _sure_ you will think of something." He walked off and out of the Transporter room, leaving his First Officer staring after him, an eyebrow raised.

--

Returning to his ready room, the Captain began poring over the various new reports that had found their way onto his desk. Or at least, he tried to, but his mind kept wandering. He was so _frustrated!_ He had gone down to Earth to try and convince Starfleet to resume the launch of the _Explorer_. Instead, he had come back empty handed. Admiral Parsons orders stood – they were to hold until further notice.

So it was with great surprise that only a few minutes later the Communications system bleeped, and the monitor on his screen began showing the words 'Level 2 Confidential Transmission: Starfleet Command.'

He pressed a button, and Admiral Parsons appeared on screen. "Admiral! I wasn't expecting to speak with you again so soon!"

"You're not the only one, but this _couldn't_ wait. You won't _believe_ this, but we've _got _the Klingons! Right here in San Francisco, not far from where Miss Andrews overheard the conversation, less that thirty minutes ago. They're denying the charges of terrorism – they would, wouldn't they?! But the important thing is they are detained! I've spoken to the other Chiefs of Staff, and we're close to green lighting the launch again. Once we're sure things are OK again, I'll be in touch."

Corega nodded. "Thank you Sir. I look forward to hearing from you."

The screen went black, and he smiled. Well, perhaps someone was watching over him after all!

--

The Mess-hall Canteen was pleasantly calm at 2300 hours that evening. Only Commander Mitchell sat at one of the tables, a glass nurtured in his hand. The main lights were dimmed, so only a blue glow from the refrigeration units, housing the days left over food, cast its glow across the room. Captain Corega nodded to the Commander as he entered, and ventured lazily over to the cup dispensers.

"It's quiet in here," he said, making conversation, picking up a small porcelain cup.

"Wonderful, isn't it?" the Commander retorted, sipping at his honey- gold beverage. The Captain nodded.

"Brandy?" Corega asked, motioning to the glass.

Mitchell shook his head. "Scotch." The Captain nodded.

"Always preferred Brandy myself. Is this thing working now?" he motioned to the drinks dispenser.

"Good as new sir. Except if you're after warm milk. It comes out more like cream. I'll take another shot at it later." He sighed, rubbing at black- ringed eyes.

"Espresso, double shot," Corega commanded to the voice panel in the wall, placing his cup under a spout. The dark, aromatic liquid filled the small container. "Long day, Commander," he said. It was not a question, but Mitchell nodded anyway.

"I've been looking forward to this all day!" He raised his glass, and then took another sip of Scotch, sighing happily.

The Captain took his drink and walked to the windows stretching along the far wall. The Moon glowed heavenly white. If he squinted, he could just about make out the colonies, newly established since the Lunar Mining Project collapsed, giving way to new terra-forming projects.

"Looking forward to tomorrow, Captain?" Mitchell asked, turning to take in the silhouette at the window.

"It's been a long time coming," the Captain replied. Starfleet had contacted him an hour ago to restart the Launch countdown. They were confident the two Klingons were the only saboteurs, and they were safely under lock and key.

Mitchell's forehead creased. "That doesn't answer my question," he said with a cheeky grin, and then, when the Captain turned his head to him, added "_Sir._ Sorry, sir."

Corega turned, waving away the apology, and sat down opposite the Chief. He cradled his small cup in his palms, and watched the steam rise up, swirling around in the air.

"You seem troubled about something, Captain? Can I help at all?"

"Oh, it's just Captain stuff," Corega responded. " I can't talk about it."

"Well if it helps, I turned down my own command of the _Endeavour_ to be on this ship, so technically, _technically_, you're talking with a would- be Captain." Mitchell said, smiling.

Corega chuckled. "Oh. Well, that's all right then." He shook his head. "It's nothing. It's me probably. I just can't help…feeling," he shook his head again, and clicked his tongue. "Something's still not right." He took a sip of his Espresso.

"How so?" the Commander asked.

"They caught the Klingons, but Stephanie- the witness- I spoke to her after the Admiral called to tell me we'd been given the green light again. I thought it only right to thank her for talking to Starfleet and me. And she seemed unsure... she said she didn't think they're the ones she saw plotting against us."

"Did she tell _Command_ that?" Mitchell further questioned, leaning forward intently.

"Do you think we'd have the go- ahead tomorrow if she did?"

"I suppose not. So... I take it _you _didn't tell Command that either?"

Corega smiled thinly, and took a sip of Coffee. "No. No I didn't."

"If you ask me, you made the right decision. Security is _hermitically_ tight! You'd have to be Houdini to get on board!"

"That assumption is the only thing that kept me quiet. So I've got what I wanted," Corega said, and his eyes glazed over, as if he were talking to himself, "We launch tomorrow, but now…what if something _does_ go wrong? Perhaps…perhaps I should have told command what she told me. Perhaps they _should_ postpone the launch."

Mitchell nodded thoughtfully, and drained his glass. "Well, there's still time sir," he said, leaving his chair and walking over to a sealed locker. He tapped in a code, the lock unlatched, and he pulled out a half- empty Scotch bottle. "But in my opinion, I don't think you should." He walked over to a glass- panelled hatch, slid the pane aside, and pulled out an empty glass. He went back over to the table, and poured a glass for the Captain. "We can take _every_ precaution- scans, searches- before the launch. If anyone is on board, we'll find them! And like you said sir, it's been a _long_ time coming. If we don't launch now, when _will_ we?"

"Exactly what I argued to Command," Corega said, taking the drink and polishing off his coffee, before taking a swig from the glass of Scotch. He nodded, and eyed his Chief engineer. "It's probably pre- launch jitters, that's all."

"So, we launch tomorrow?" Mitchell asked, raising his refilled glass. The Captain smiled, and nodded.

"We launch tomorrow," he clinked his glass against the other, and they drained them together in unison.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, Mitchell refilling their glasses again, the pair of them staring into the swirling alcohol before taking large gulps of it. Then, after their glasses were further drained and refilled another time, Corega broke the silence.

"It's strange, this Stephanie, she told me she enrolled at the Academy several years ago, but she was dismissed."

"What's strange about that sir? A lot of people don't cut the mustard when it comes to Starfleet."

"It's strange because I felt…It seemed that she _had_ something. An edge to her."

"All due respect Captain, but you only knew her for less than a day. Spoke for what, an hour at most? Command probably saw something that you haven't. She might have been too reckless, too lazy."

"But the way she talked about Starfleet…I could tell, it was her _life_. There was a passion there. She just didn't seem the type to shrug off responsibilities."

"How long ago did she enrol?" Mitchell asked.

"I'm not sure. I'd say no more than five years ago. She's not that old."

"That could explain it, then," Mitchell said. "There was a lot going on at the time. Integrating Starfleet into the Federation, admitting other species into its ranks for the first time, there was a lot of confusion about what it should take to pass as an officer. Vulcan's with superior intellect, Andorians with their advanced tactical knowledge- they raised the bar for the human entrants. I'd imagine a lot of people were turned out for failing to meet requirements."

Corega nodded, then said with an air of levity, "Boy I'm glad we got in when we did, eh?"

Mitchell chuckled. "We had it _easy_ compared to now!"

"It still seems unfair, though," the Captain whispered. He shook himself out of his thought. "I'd better get back to work. There's still a lot to do, and only…" he leaned over and tapped at one of three buttons etched into the black lacquered table. "Time?" he asked.

An emotionless male voice droned over the comm. "2337 hours."

"Only ten and a half hours to do it in!"


End file.
